Excerpt
by ashestoashesanddusttodust
Summary: Unconnected drabbles.
1. Chapter 1

**Change  
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 **Notes:** Ibid.

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The headaches come infrequently. Sharp and centered in familiar areas that don't give him the option to try and pretend he doesn't know exactly what's causing it.

They start at the back of his head. Where his spine connects to his brain. It spreads from there and feels like needles being jabbed into his head. His arms ache in sympathy as he expects the restraints to come out at any moment. To hold him fast and still in the chair as the drugs -goop? chemicals? who the hell really knew?- burn through him. Changing things in his mind in ways he still can't figure out.

He'd known, at the time, what could be done. What he could do with the amount he had. The things he could improve and the things he could change completely. A little jar to keep his hands steadier, a larger one to make him run faster, several more to make him stronger. To make the pain he felt on being hit fade faster.

Jar by jar. Adding more every chance he got so that he'd have a better chance to survive that hell. Injecting the neon green stuff in callously with no regard to what the hell he was actually doing. It hadn't mattered then. Not when it took more than he had to just keep living.

It had worked. He made it out alive but he's paying for it now. Paying for it in ways he can't figure out, because while he might not have been actually injecting that shit into his mind in that nightmare he was still doing _something_.

They run him through a complete physical. After sticking him in observation for a few days and poking at his head trying to figure out what was done to him. The short answer is that they don't have a single clue.

He's in perfect health according to them, and he got released not long afterwards. Released to an inquisition of questions he tries to answer without making himself seem like a total headcase. Drugs and general mind fuckery is the going theory when they're done with that and Sebastian doesn't dissuade them from that idea because it's true.

He lets the higherups figure that shit out and focuses instead on the paperwork the docs left him with. The numbers and whatnot that they'd been so pleased over had made his gut clench in dread. He'd half assed that shit and the numbers are better than anything he's ever managed before.

Better than when he was a cocky teenager with good knees and no idea what back pain actually meant. The numbers aren't anywhere near where they should be for a thirty-some year old man whose idea of exercise involved a sixpack and a couple of smokes on the couch. Not even close to what they are even when he gets his rank threatened by the bosses to shape up.

And he hadn't even been _trying_. It goes beyond that though.

Sebastian's never been a bad shot, but his aim is fucking phenomenal now on the range. Even the cheap one the department has with the pop up targets that everyone hates. He gets every one dead center, and doesn't even flinch at the specially designated civilian targets. Seeing them and recognizing them almost as soon as they start to swing out.

Which is funny because the last time he got a check up the doctor had been making some noise about him looking into getting himself some glasses. He'd been thinking about it too, because shit had been getting blurry and indistinct at a certain distance. But it's not like that anymore. The world is razor sharp and in focus no matter where he looks or how fast he turns his head. Hell, even the dark doesn't seem so dark anymore.

His hands don't shake at all even after holding position for too long. His arms don't feel tired at all even after an hour of constant shooting. In fact, Sebastian doesn't feel very tired period even though he's getting a hell of a lot less sleep than he should be getting. Not from nightmares though he's got enough of those, but just from him not feeling tired.

Small things and not so small things that add up to a hell of an advantage that most guys'd be happy about, but add up to a hell of a bad feeling for Sebastian when combined with the headaches.

He knows what he saw when he walked out of that damn asylum. Knows the back of Leslie's head all too well, knows the particular stride of Ruvik too. The things that happened in there are real in a way that makes him want to scream, because those things transferred over to the real world. They came back with him, and he's damn sure they came back with Ruvik.

Sebastian imagines a world with a Ruvik who is able to manipulate it, and he breaks into a cold sweat.

He thinks about it each time the headaches come, or each time someone compliments him on his quick reflexes. He thinks about it all, and hardly understands even a fraction of it but he dreads it anyway.

It's not over. Not by a long shot.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Excerpt  
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 **Notes:** Ibid.

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Sleep is impossible. The pain isn't as bad as the itching, but it refuses to let him drift off. Keeping him awake to suffer in silence. Silence because it's not time for the brusque nurses to come by and change the bandages or drip liquid down his burnt throat. The only time anyone ever enters the room he's been locked in.

He knows he's locked in because he hears the lock each time. He'll see it eventually when the bandages around his eyes come off, and Ruben thinks he'll go utterly mad then. Mad with the full knowledge of the boundaries of his prison.

He's counting the beating of his heart when he becomes aware that he's not alone anymore. He hears nothing and knows the door didn't open, but there's no mistaking the shift in the air. No mistaking the scent that fills the room. Light and familiar.

"Hey," her voice is soft and gentle. Soothing where nothing else is anymore.

"Laura," Ruben nearly cries out at the croak that his voice makes her name.

"Shhh," Laura soothes and her hand is cool on his face. Her touch easing the pain that's been a constant for so long. So very long. "Hush now, Ruben. You need to sleep."

"He said-" No. No! Ruben reaches for her but his body won't move, won't obey him and the pain spikes enough to leave him dizzy and gasping. Tears soak into the bandages around his eyes. Relieved tears because Laura's hand catches him and eases him still. Taking the pain away with it. "He said you were dead!"

"Oh, no, Ruben. I'm not dead," Laura laughs and the sound is the most beautiful thing he's heard in too long. "I'm with you, okay? Always."

"Always," Ruben repeats with relief. Letting the rhythm of her fingers lull him into the sleep that's been eluding him.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Marked**

 **Notes:** In a world with soulmate name marks Person A has none and gets a random name on them, later they deal with person B who claims its their name. Not quite as cracky a prompt when put in TEW. AU, obviously.

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Ruben regards the societal obsession over soulmarks with disdain. The idea that each person is born incomplete is interesting and has some facts to base it on, but the idea that another person -preordained by fate or the whimsy of some god- is all that's needed to fix that is absolutely absurd. The means by which soulmarks appear is a puzzling process that Ruben finds fascinating, but the fact that people take them so seriously is an endless source of frustration. The world is _filled_ with people. The odds of finding someone that matches a person's mark is very high, and them having a matching name is not as rare as people think.

Chance and odds play into the whole thing far more than humanity would like to admit. Ruben takes his own situation as proof of that. At 28 he has yet to spontaneously develop a name on any part of his body. That's seven years beyond even the most extreme case of slow emergence. When he was younger he had taken it for a sign that he was a complete being, now he thinks it more likely that he simply refuses to give into the nonsense of the idea of fate.

Not that Ruben can use his own life as a case study of any kind. Familial expectation and the high cost of getting a doctorate had not allowed Ruben the choice to tell the truth about his lack of a mark. Father had demanded it as a condition of funding, and it had given Ruben great pleasure to reveal the very _male_ name he had spent a long time permanently inking into his own arm. An ordeal he had been very careful with.

Careful that the pigment used and the process to embed it under his skin looked as natural as possible. Allowing the self-inflicted mark the time needed to heal before revealing it. Careful in the selection of a name as well. The popularity of names is not entirely unpredictable. Ruben had taken care to choose a name that was well out of favor for most countries, but not so out of favor as to be unbelievable.

Showing his parents the name on his arm is one of the sweetest memories Ruben has of them. He'd timed it perfectly so there were plenty of witnesses, enough of their peers around that they could not refute the sacrosanct bond of a soulmark without being socially ostracized. Laura might complain of their colder treatment of Ruben after that, but it was an honest relief to him.

The memories of why he has the name he has, and a lifetime of disgust pass through Ruben's mind in a fraction of a second. He's left feeling rather numb and stupefied as his phone creaks warningly in his hand. It is not a pleasant feeling. "What?"

"I know!" Laura _squeals_ in giddy happiness, and it makes Ruben flinch. "I was surprised too! He's a little rough looking, but it's kind of hot too. Like, hm, he looks like a detective cliche but it really works for him."

"Detective?" Ruben questions as his mind starts to catch up and slowly overcome his surprise. There are more important things than the fact that there's a man named Sebastian with Ruben's name marked on him in this world. Like the fact that Ruben has already been questioned by the police four times, and they have yet to lose interest in him. Laura doesn't need to know that right now though. "Laura what are you talking about?"

"Oh, he was one of the men who told me," Laura leaves the statement hanging unfinished. About the death of their parents doesn't need to be said. Liberal artist and lover of protests she might be, Laura is not the kind of person who would attract the authorities attention any other way. "He works with missing people, notifying family comes with the territory it seems."

Which is not as comforting as he'd hoped. Ruben keeps his thoughts to himself though. There is no evidence at all to implicate him, he had made sure of it. As the eldest -and least embarrassing child- Laura will inherit everything, and motive will be harder to prove with money not being a factor. The questioning will cease eventually.

"I don't think-"

"Nope, you won't be thinking at all," Laura cuts him off with a firm voice he's too used to hearing. It's the one she uses when she is going to force him to do something he doesn't like, but she thinks will be good for him. Ruben hates that voice, but he's powerless against it. "I've sent you the details for dinner tonight. Meet him, Ruben, he's your soulmate. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Laura," Ruben sighs and rubs at his temple where he can feel the very beginnings of a headache forming. He loves his sister like nothing else in the world, but that love comes with a price.

"Good," the command drops from her voice and she's back to light and giddy. "And I expect details of my new brother in law tomorrow."

Ruben sighs again when he pockets his phone and frowns down at the name inked into his skin. He had a teacher once who was fond of the infinite monkey theorem and would apply it to everything regardless of if it fit or not. Ruben does not appreciate the thought.

He turns with regret to his tools and picks up a syringe he had been hoping not to use. The restrained man thrashes and tries to scream as the drug slides harmlessly into his system to pull him into a deeply medicated sleep. There's no time at all for the experimentation he had planned to do if he's to meet this Sebastian and assess how much of a threat he might be.

Maintaining appearances is tiring, but Ruben is determined to make something out of the night as he pushes his tool cart out of the cell and locks his specimen in. It might be worth it to play along with this whole charade if the man isn't too unbearable. What better alibi than a soulmate who is a cop after all?

Ruben contemplates the possibilities laid before him as he walks through a hall of locked doors. Not hearing the sounds that come from behind them anymore.

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End file.
